


At Least It Was Here and Not There

by CaryceJade



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, Mild panic, Pre-Slash, Sportacus ain't half bad either, Stephanie is amazing, Surgery, Vomiting, Yes I use the same OCs regularly, poor robbie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 11:25:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10188905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaryceJade/pseuds/CaryceJade
Summary: Also known as the fandom-requisite appendicitis fic nobody asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think I covered all the warnings in my tags, so I will just say that the more I like a character, the more they get put through the mill, whether physically or emotionally.

Robbie was sitting on the bench that he typically napped on, when he realised that he didn't feel well at all. There was a queasy feeling crawling around in his stomach, but he was too anxious to move yet. 

He hated being nauseous, as it always caused him terrible anxiety. He hated throwing up, hated the mess and unpleasantness of it all, and he went out of his way to avoid it whenever possible. He could deal with others being sick, even manage to be sympathetic, but as to himself, he was so panicked that he could cry. 

He groaned softly as the stirrings of nausea became an active roiling. He didn't have long now, and he really should get home, or at least somewhere with a bathroom, even though he didn't really want to be alone. The nearest place was the town hall, so he got up, swallowing hard as the movement caused the nausea to spike, though he tamped it back down. 

The walk to the town hall was mercifully short, causing Robbie to thank all the gods that ever were that this was a small town. 

Making his way into the bathroom with a false nonchalance, he walked into the stall, locked the door, and sat down, waiting for the inevitable. 

After a couple of hiccups and wet burps, he whimpered and got over the toilet. At this point, he felt so bad that he didn't care who heard him being sick. He even wished someone _would_ come, so that he wouldn't be alone. He took a deep breath that was aborted by a deep cough that became a retch. He would have cried if he had thought it would help. 

One retch was followed by another, but nothing came up. He did let out a couple of sobs at this point, trying to tamp down a full-blown panic attack. He just felt _so_ horrible. He jumped at a knock on the door. 

“Hey, are you okay?” A voice that he recognized as the pink girl said. 

He wanted to say that he was alright, that nothing was the matter, other than a sudden bout of nausea that he wished were over. 

That was not what came out. A rather weak and pitiful-sounding, “No,” came out instead. 

“I’m coming in,” Stephanie said quietly. “You sound like you feel _awful ___.”

Robbie wanted to protest, to tell her to go away, but all that came out was a choked sob that turned into something between a cough and a retch. He laid his head on the seat of the toilet, whimpering softly.

He heard the door open, and the padding footsteps of a ten-year-old. He heard her approach the stall, stop outside the door, and say, “Can you let me in, Robbie, please? I can get in if you can't get over to the door, but is it okay?”

He sat up, immediately regretting the decision. He retched violently, almost throwing up, but not quite. He fell back, panting. “Don't want to be alone….” He whimpered as his stomach twisted. “Please…”

He heard metal hitting metal, then the lock flipping up. “Oh, no,” Stephanie said sympathetically as she was came into the large stall. She sat down beside him, a small hand on his back. 

“Appreciate this,” he mumbled, leaning forward over the toilet again. He hiccuped a couple of times retching violently. He felt Stephanie gently rubbing his back as he alternately retched and sobbed because he felt so bad. 

Finally, he felt something rising in his throat, and he barely got properly over the toilet before he threw up. He barely had time to take a breath between retches, and Stephanie's voice sounded like a comforting white noise that kept him from going into a panic attack, as he knew from experience that a panic attack while throwing up was not a pleasant experience. 

Finally, he fell back, gasping and panting from the exertion. He felt Stephanie pass him a paper towel to wipe his mouth with, and he felt her wipe off his forehead with another one. He didn't think that he had ever felt this bad in his life. To top it off, he knew that it wasn't over. 

Stephanie reached over and flushed the toilet. “Do you feel any better at all?” Her tone was deeply concerned. 

Robbie shook his head, wincing at how dizzy it made him feel. “No,” he said hoarsely. “Worse, if anything.” He got back over the toilet, hiccuping miserably. His stomach hurt, and the queasiness was not letting up. 

Stephanie realized that this was serious, whether by instinct or something in the back of her mind, and immediately wished that Sportacus would come. She knew that her uncle, while very kind and well-meaning, was absolutely useless in a major situation, and Miss Busybody fluttered and tittered too much to be any real help. _Please come, and be quiet,_ she thought. _I don't think Robbie can handle a lot of noise and tittering and fluttering._ Out loud, she said, “I’m calling Sportacus. You obviously need more help than I can give you.”

Robbie only nodded miserably in acknowledgement of Stephanie's statement. 

Sure enough, Sportacus walked in a moment later, considerably more quietly than he was usually capable of being. 

“I’m going to go talk to Sportacus for a minute,” Stephanie said, laying a hand on Robbie's shoulder as she went out. Robbie nodded in acknowledgement, laying his head down on his arms.

* * *

Sportacus was waiting outside the stall, face worried. He knew that for Stephanie to be calling him in such a manner, the matter had to be absolutely serious. “What's wrong, Stephanie?” he asked. He had gotten that something was wrong with Robbie, and, while his crystal did not consistently work for Robbie, in fact, it worked _so_ inconsistently that he had made an appointment with the elders to get it tested. 

“Robbie's really sick, and I just think something's really wrong.” They had gotten close over the past couple of years, and the crystal having selected her as Sportacus' successor had taught her to hone her instincts about people and situations. This was something that was out of her depth. “I was doing homework in the conference room when he came in.”

Sportacus nodded. “I’m glad you called me, especially since you felt that something was really wrong.” He knocked softly on the door of the stall. “Robbie,” he said quietly, “may I come in?” He truly did not know exactly how worried to be about the person who had become his best friend (and secret crush) over the past couple of years, and would not until he actually saw him. 

Only a quiet sob answered him. 

Well, that tore it, at least in Sportacus' opinion. He said, “I’m coming in,” as a warning, then pushed the door open. 

Immediately, he knelt down beside Robbie, laying a hand on his arm. “What’s wrong, Robbie?” he asked. Just by feeling his arm through his shirt, Sportacus could tell that he had a fever. 

“Sick. Feel awful.” He nearly pushed Sportacus out of the way trying to get over to the toilet. He retched, but nothing came up. He laid his head on the seat again, taking comfort in the coolness. He felt Sportacus gently rub his upper back. 

A minute later, the nausea began spiking again, and he got over the toilet. He didn't know how much more he could take. He hiccuped several more times, finally retching a couple of times. He felt Sportacus gently rubbing his back, sometimes saying calming things. It wouldn't have mattered to Robbie _what_ either he or Stephanie were saying. Just the tone meant that he wasn't alone. They could have been reading the phone book or discussing underwater basket-weaving, as long as they were saying it in a soothing tone. He just hoped that they didn't grow tired of it and leave him alone. 

He finally slumped back, crying out because of the pain in his stomach. He just kept _almost_ throwing up, but never quite making it.   
Suddenly, his stomach twisted, and he felt everything leap up his throat, and he only barely got his head over the toilet in time. He heard Sportacus make some sort of exclamatory noise, then switch gears to a more calming tone. 

He finally fell back, completely exhausted, feeling Sportacus wipe his mouth off for him (which was maybe a little embarrassing, but the fact that he didn't even react while doing so was more comforting than anything). 

“Stephanie, can you go get me a cup of water, please,” Sportacus said quietly. He then looked over at Robbie. “Can you tell me if there's anything else going on, other than being sick?”

“Hurts.” Robbie ground out. 

“Can you tell me more about that?”

Robbie shook his head, almost imperceptibly, leaning into the hand Sportacus laid on his forehead. “Stomach hurts,” he said softly. 

Stephanie returned with the cup of water, then sat in the corner of the stall, watching the exchange with a great deal of concern. 

“Thought you might want to rinse out your mouth,” Sportacus said softly. 

Robbie nodded, shakily taking the cup and taking a few small sips out of it. He then laid his head down on Sportacus’ shoulder, wrapping his arms around his stomach and whining softly. He felt Sportacus wrap an arm around him, a warm, reassuring presence. 

“Does your stomach hurt anywhere specific, or is it just a general pain?” Sportacus asked. 

“Can't really tell,” Robbie replied. 

“Can you lie down for me?” Sportacus was getting a bad feeling, and he hoped that he was wrong. “You don't have to lay completely flat, but I need to get to all of your stomach. 

Robbie slowly slid down, and they were all grateful that the stall was rather large. 

“I’m going to press on your stomach. I need you to tell me if one place hurts worse than any of the others.” The medical training that he had taken in his studies was something he always hoped that he would never have to use, but it was inevitable that he would. 

Pressing on Robbie's stomach, when Sportacus reached his lower right side, pressed and let go, Robbie let out a scream, curling up in a ball, almost retching from the pain. Sportacus met Stephanie's eyes, which were wide with fright. He himself was a little scared. 

“Robbie. It's very important,” Sportacus said intensely. “I need to know if it hurt worse when I let go than it did when I pressed down. He felt horrible at having to cause his friend even a little pain, but if his instincts were correct, it wasn't near as bad as the idea of what would happen if he did nothing. 

“When you let go,” Robbie finally said once the pain lessened enough that he could speak. “Hurt worse.”

Sportacus turned back to Stephanie. “Stephanie,” he said with a forced calm. “I need you to call an ambulance. I think Robbie has appendicitis. I’ll explain it later, but I need you to do that now.”

Stephanie nodded, eyes still wide with fear, and bolted out. 

“Robbie,” Sportacus said. “I hated to make you hurt worse, but I had to know.” He took Robbie's hand, letting him squeeze it with each wave of pain that hit. 

“It's okay. Knew you...wouldn't unless… you had to.”

* * *

The ambulance arrived within minutes, and Robbie was quickly loaded up by the two EMTs for the trip to the hospital in the neighboring town. 

Sportacus and Stephanie looked at each other. “I’m scared,” Stephanie said softly. “I’ve never seen anybody that sick or hurting that bad before.”

“I’m scared, too,” Sportacus responded, getting down to where he could hug Stephanie. To her surprise, she could feel him shaking a little bit. “You never get used to it, and it's even harder when it's someone you care about. We're going to drive to the hospital, because I think Robbie could use some familiar faces. We're just going to leave a note for your uncle, so that he knows you’re with me, and why.”

Stephanie nodded. “I’ll go do that right now.”

“I’ll go get my car,” Sportacus replied. He had acquired a car that he rarely used about a year prior, when it became practical for him to have a vehicle, as it did not appear that he would be leaving Lazy Town anytime soon.

* * *

It was a wonder that Sportacus did not manage to get pulled over on the way to the hospital, but they were soon waiting for news. 

A nurse came in, saying, “Mr. Magnusson, you are listed as the emergency contact for Mr. Rotten, so I can give you information. Would you rather your daughter leave the room?”

“She's not my daughter,” Sportacus replied, “but Robbie is her friend as well, they were together when he fell ill, and she's very worried about him. She can stay.”

The nurse, whose nametag read “Corrine”, smiled gently. “First off, it was definitely appendicitis. The appendix hadn't ruptured yet, fortunately, and he’s in surgery to remove it. Dr. Latham will tell you more when he is finished. I just need you to fill out some paperwork for me.” She left the stack of paperwork and a pen with Sportacus. “Just turn them in at the desk when you are done.” She smiled kindly at Sportacus and Stephanie, then left the room. 

Sportacus finished the paperwork in record time, turning it in with the desk clerk, who immediately began entering it into the computer. He went back in, sitting down next to Stephanie. 

“Sportacus, what's appendicitis?” she asked. 

Sportacus took a deep breath and began to explain….

* * *

It was a few hours later when a tall, lean man with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a moustache entered the room. He immediately shook both Sportacus and Stephanie's hand. “I’m Dr. Carl Latham,” he said kindly, “and I performed surgery on Mr. Rotten.”

“How is he?” Sportacus asked, his heart in his throat, in spite of Dr. Latham’s body language suggesting that he had good news. 

“He came through the surgery extremely well. It was definitely appendicitis, and, had another hour passed, his appendix would have burst, which would have caused a whole new set of problems. If everything continues to go well, I'm releasing him tomorrow afternoon, though I don't want him doing much of anything for the next four weeks.”

Sportacus let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. “Thank you. When can we see him?”

“Just come with me,” Dr. Latham replied, smiling. 

They followed him down the hallway to a room in the small hospital. “He woke up in recovery, but went back to sleep,” Dr. Latham pointed out. “I believe that is the best healer, because he’ll be pretty sore for a while.” He looked up as his name was paged over the PA. “I'll be back by to check on him in a couple of hours.” He smiled at both of them and went in the direction that he was being paged. 

Sportacus and Stephanie went into the room and sat down, beyond relieved that Robbie was going to be alright.

* * *

Robbie woke up a couple of hours later to see Stephanie curled up asleep in one chair, and Sportacus sitting in the other reading a dog-eared copy of _Field and Stream_. Sportacus immediately put the magazine down and smiled a smile of pure joy and relief.


End file.
